10 Years Past Sin
by Blood.Drop.Lolita
Summary: Hard to have a summery for this… basically it is about the journey that Braska, Auron, and Jecht took on their pilgrimage to battle from beginning to end. Oh yes... there will be Tonberries. ::full summary inside:: main characters: Braska, Auron, Jecht.
1. Prologue

Izzy:: Hewo… Sorry, I took a break on most of my other fics. I'm really stuck on them XD

Anyways, I put a lot of thought into this one. I hope you like this one, I think you all will.

Oh, and I always love reviews ::wink wink nudge nudge:: They keep goin' and make the chapters come faster. Well, enjoy. Last note, I won't be interrupting this fic aside from the occasional author's note and groveling for reviews.

Summary[rated for violence, implied rape, vulgarity, attempted and successful suicide and urges/thoughts, multiple deaths, crude humour, alcohol, child abuse, language, and anything else I left out.

Hard to have a summery for this… basically it is about the journey that Braska, Auron, and Jecht took on their pilgrimage to battle Sin. Ja, you really think you know what went on and you think you know exactly how it ended, but you don't. Well… neither do I… this is my own interpretation of their journey, from beginning to end, and even them some past the end.

Disclaimer:: I don't own Final Fantasy or its characters, nor do I own Squaresoft/ Square Enix; I merely own this fan fiction and the plot that goes along with it, and the own characters I created… yes, I own my own characters and plot line. XD

._10 Years Past Sin._

.Blood.Drop.Lolita.

_**.Preface.Prologue.**_

Every ten years it comes back around. It rears its ugly head and kills an uncountable number of innocent people. Every summoner hopes to be able to destroy it, once in for all, but most die with that dream- which is shattered quickly with the hearts of their loved ones.

But there is always another waiting to take their place.

The entity, appropriately dubbed _Sin, _cannot be stopped indefinitely, and that has been confirmed. Thronging masses of young, fresh-faced summoners and their guardians practically race to their death, only so that they may bring their world a lull of peace, and die with their dream.

This journey is not so different from those that have been taken in the past, and the generations before the past.

This particular group… a _trio_, if you will, has that same exact feeling, that same burning fire, that they will be the chosen ones to bring about Sin's permanent and undisrupted 'sleep'. They believe that they will avenge the sheep in generations past that were led to the altar and slaughtered, and their lives for a mere ten years of peace, a prolonged death is all that is being instated, not peace.

They knew the full ten years would eventually become shorter. By a few seconds, minutes, months, and eventually leading up to shortened years. If this same means of disposal continued… Sin would never leave the world, and thus it would be destroyed. Sin is like a vermin, no different from a louse or a flea; if you do not eradicate it successfully and quickly, it will repopulate and eventually become immune to the _treatments_, until it becomes impervious to your attempts… and then it will overrun you, and you will lose.

It is not different with Sin.

One particular young man, a bit of a philosopher, wondered what would happen if _this_ world were to be destroyed. Could it be possible that Sin would phase to the other side as well? Would it be able to find the gate to the land of the sent and terrorize its victims further in the Farplane? These were all questions that were rhetorical, and had no set answer… that is unless this event were to actually happen, and in that case he would rather have his queries go unanswered.

He did not want to think about it, but it was always in the back of his mind. Always nagging at him and invading his sleep…

But he goes on, with that flame in his spirit. He and his guardians have an important role in this race to death.

They have what others lacked. They have the dream, but what the others lacked, they have the determination. They have the determination to end this slaughter and eradicate Sin once and for all.

With youth and passion on their side, who's to say they did not have a chance?


	2. Where old friends meet

_He had been sure of is since he was an adolescent undergoing the rigorous training to become a summoner. He knew he would bring a leeway to this cursed world. Only one problem faced him: he had no real friends. _

_All those hours he spent in the temples, all those days he spent kneeling in the fayth had cost him his normalcy, and friends. _

_When he was a young child, he had a few friends, but once it was insisted that he begin his training… well, breakdown of communication can cause friendships to grow old and stale, and eventually flake apart and decay. It was difficult being him, sometimes. All the weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, so much and so literally, in fact, that he slumped a little and had a slow gate that seemed to require much effort to keep trudging on._

_Despite these pressures and difficulties, he was often quite happy. He would visit the brothels and have a few drinks, possibly show off a few of his tricks, then later he would compose himself and leave. _

_Back to the temple for him._

_He never had much fun… or course there was not much of anyone to have fun with._

_Well, that was all going to change today, and so would the fates and lives of those whom he decided to become acquainted with…_

___**Chapter one**__**- Where old friends meet.**_

There was a party… no, a _festival_.

Parties were something you threw to celebrate a child's birthday, or the death of a much hated family member which was more common, what with the war going on and all.

A festival was something that could be thrown because of a great accomplishment or one large going away party. He grimaced…

So it _was _a party. A festival was just an over exaggerated going away party, which in this case it was also tied in with the great accomplishment that he had yet to accomplish.

"Your father would have been very proud of you, Braska." the old priest grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled as they always did when he would smile, which he did quite often. He placed a hand on the now-accomplished-summoner's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"_I_ am very proud of you. Today, you will journey forth and bring us a new Calm." the old man chuckled and his grin broadened,

"You are better than any apprentice I have seen yet. It must have been your father guiding you! I remember when you were just a boy and--"

Braska pretended to be distracted by someone in the crowd of people. He gave a shaky laugh and nodded at a random person, motioning he would be there in a minute.

He had no one to see, but he groaned inwardly because he hated it when the old crone got off on a 'why I remember' bout. They normally lasted for hours, and he would repeat himself because he would forget what he had just said.

Braska couldn't count the number of times he had heard the same sentence be repeated five times, then four times back over.

Senile old crone.

"Sorry, but I think someone is calling me, Shinku-sensei! Busy man!" Braska forced a grin and chuckled again. He was never very good at lying, but the priest never seemed to be able to tell the difference. He simply continued grinning, patted his shoulder, and waved him away.

As he was walking away he saw Shinku-sensei hobbling over to the bar stand.

_Drunk_ senile old crone.

Braska ebbed through the crowds of half drunken and very euphoric festival goers. Some of them were slumped over by the wall, either telling half-coherent jokes and laughing so hard afterwards that they fell into a coughing fit, and then there were those who looked positively green and were gripping the weeds growing out of the concrete to keep from falling off the earth.

Braska shook his head. Festivals were nice, the he would agree on, but he absolutely hated these large crowds…

And seeing that man over by the wall, gripping those weeds for all he was worth of course, projectile vomit up his rum did not help his love for the smashed crowds.

He did love the attention he got, though. Ever since he was a child he would always do something to get at least one person to notice him. But if the gatherers of hopeful people and those who portrayed themselves to be his friends knew that the mighty Braska was attention starved, then that would be the immediate end to his career before it even began. He would lose all those adoring faces. He was their hope, and no one wants to have their hopes placed within an insecure child…

_Correction_, a _twenty-six _year old male with the mind of an eleven year old insecure child. No, he was not mentally debilitated; he just never really got over his want and insecurity that he had harboured as a child and adolescent.

He continued to wander further and further away from the festive events, the crowd thinning out and the noise fading until he finally was alone, despite a few stragglers and people waiting for the next _Shoopuff _to arrive. There was a fair crowd of people in this section of town, only they weren't clumped together. Most were smashed out of their minds and the others, awaiting the Hypello with the giant Shoopuff.

The night sky in Kilika was absolutely beautiful, and now that he was away from the festivities he could clearly see the stars and all the constellations they formed. He felt his stomach sink, as seeing this sky made his thoughts wander to what they would always end up creeping back to; Sin.

For odd reasons he still does not know, it sparked his curiosity as to how he would do this alone. No friends meant the obvious: no guardians.

He laughed in spite of himself. Everything he did was backwards, yet it made sense to him.

Here he was, alone, wandering away from the event that was being held in _his _honour and sulking over his destiny and how he was going to have to start it alone. He could be seeking out possible accomplices, but no, that was not how Braska operated.

He sat back and let things come to him; never did he reach out to grab the opportunity. He saw it as, 'if it does not find me, them I was never meant to find it.'

He was worried he would look like a fool, prattling on and trying to make buddies with aquatences he had not formally spoken with for close to three years. A foolish summoner, honestly. He has an image to keep up, he couldn't--

"_Aren't you a little _old _to be waiting to ride the baby Shoopuff?"_

Braska shook out of his thoughts. The clam voice that had just addressed him had mildly bitter humour in it. He was now aware he was standing by the pin with the chocobo-sized Shoopuffs- baby Shoopuffs. There were some small children there, holding their mother's hand. One of the mothers smiled at Braska, the same uneasy smile you give someone when you are embarrassed for them or really want them to go away. The 'awkward smile'.

Braska's face turned a slight red and hearing that clam voice chuckling at his embarrassment did not help matters.

So much for his image.

"Mommy, I wanna ride the tShoopuffff." a child said, who was apparently missing their front teeth due to their lisping. He was obviously spoiled by his parents, you could tell just by looking at him. He tugged and his mothers skirt,

"That man won't moooove."

His mother sighed and tried to remove the clinging child from her skirt.

'_Just don't look at him.' _Braska heard her mumbled.

It hit him, that woman thought he was a drunk. She was a tourist, judging by her clothing and overly-done nails, from Luca. But, she had probably heard the stories about the Kilika Shoopuff pin incidents.

Some of the local bums and drunks, when not panhandling gil over by the 'Shoo-Stop', would hang out over here…

There had been a few incidents that involved missing children, and most males who were alone and straggled around the Shoopuff pin were labeled as a 'bum' or a 'pervert', or sometimes both.

He, again, groaned inwardly and skulked away.

"High summoner Braska, cutting line for the Shoopuff rides!"

Braska blinked and looked around. He could not find the source of the voice, but it envied him. It was much calmer and suave than his own, as well as a lullaby to listen to. As compared to his own voice, which seemed that, like the rest of him, had never moved past puberty. It cracked on certain words and rarely sounded the same, sometimes slipping up into octaves he never knew were able to be reached. Therefore, Braska was humbly regarded as the 'quiet type' by most, since he rarely talked unless it was necessary.

Do not misunderstand, his voice had a manly ring to it… just not the kind of voice a twenty-six year old male should possess.

His mind began to work slowly as he tried to make his voice obey him, and it obeyed and came out, free of crackles or slips,

"How do you know my name…?"

Without missing a beat the voice responded,

"Everyone knows who you are. 'The son of the late High summoner Brutus, now accomplishing his destiny to follow in his father's footsteps and defeat Sin before anyone else…' Just as his father did."

"…You've certainly done your homework." Braska replied, slightly impressed.

The voice chuckled,

"I try."

"And who are you?" Braska felt uneasy talking to someone whom he did not know, not could he see.

"That matter will present itself in time…" The voice added with amusement, "You're not crazy."

Braska scoffed,

"_Thanks_."

"Where are your guardians? It is unwise for a summoner to be wandering around at this time of day… and unaccompanied… why are you not at your party? They not get the piñata you wanted?"

Even though it was dark, you could hear the smug grin on the owner of the voice's face.

Braska hesitated before answering,

"Guardians are an unnecessary accessory. My father did not have guardians and--"

"Whoever told you that is an imbecile." The voice interrupted." They died in battle, _protecting_ him. Their bodies were never discovered so… most just assume he journeyed unaccompanied. Yet _another _reason his name is so famous!"

Braska was taken aback, and being interrupted had derailed his train of thought, leaving him silent. The stranger mistook his silence for something else.

"The son of Brutus is sensitive about the fables about his father."

The sentence had been changed into a statement, and the abruptness of the change in the flow of the sentence distorted the beautiful voice, making it raise an octave.

Braska sighed and growled,

"No… you made me forget what I was going to say."

"Then it was not important."

"Yes. It--"

"If you cannot remember the thought, then it was not important to begin with."

Braska imagined seeing the owner of the voice shrug and have that smug, nonchalant look about him. Now he had forgotten what he was going to say, _twice_.

It was not what he had been thinking of earlier, but Braska had a sudden dying urge to know what a _piñata_ was. He refused to let himself ask, he had to retain some dignity.

"Or… you came to track down all who were not at your going away party."

The voice had moved back to a less sensitive topic.

"It's not a party. A party is something you throw for children… and I don't even know who the hell you are!"

"Calm _down_. _Sorry_, I never _was _the best at telling jokes." The voice lost the hint of humour and a cold settled in. The calm and the indifferent coldness made Braska envy the voice even more.

"…and I never was the best at taking them. I can make them, just never have been able to take them the right way." Braska said.

"Well aren't you special." There was a scraping of rock, a clinking, the sound of moving fabric, and then a loud and uneven 'thud', trailed by a grunt.

There was a pause of silence until the voice spoke up again, this time sounding like it was at ground level and it was much closer.

"Hell of a jump, but one _hell_ of a view up there."

Braska looked from the ground to a jagged cliff close to Kilika shore, where they kept the mainly aquatic Shoopuffs, which was now exposed by the just-starting-to-rise sun. It had a narrow groove that was large enough for one person to sit comfortably and over look Kilika for miles.

One hell of a view indeed.

The height seemed dizzying from a ground's point of view. Braska knew if he were to be up that high, he might get ill… that is if he could figure out how that figure had been perched up there, more so why and how he got up there.

"How did you get up there?" He asked the figure whom was still partially shrouded in darkness, as was the rest of Spira.

There was yet another paused, followed by a short answer. The response was slow and ended more like a question. It was the same kind of voice you use when someone asks you a question in which the answer is just plain as day.

". . . You…climb…?'

Duh.

Braska felt like a bit of a prat. He knew that.

"Wull… why where you up there?"

"Is it a crime to watch the sunrise? Speaking of which, thanks for making me miss it." The figure said mockingly and sarcastically.

"It's not my fault you chose to talk to me."

"And it's not my fault you just happened to catch my eye. You seem detached from reality, you also seem like someone who has been guided since they were young. Never forced to think for themselves… am I in the ballpark?"

Braska narrowed his eyes, more so in concentration rather than anger. He was beginning to be able to see the figure more clearly.

Well, at least it was now confirmed they were a male.

"And slow, too. A slow summoner… if that just isn't fucked up, I don't know what is… sorry, you'll have to forgive that last statement… lingo you pick up when you have an idiot drunk for a friend."

"It's excusable. At least he is not your mentor." Braska chuckled weakly.

The figure finally stepped out from the shadow that had been cast over his body to reveal a strong build. The man wore a red trench coat like jacket with a black band wrapped around his waist to keep the thing from flaying everywhere. He carried an overly-large sword, the likes of which Braska had never seen. Black pants tucked neatly into army boots completed his attire. He had black hair that had been trimmed into a crew-cut, but there were a few stray locks of hair here and there that splayed into his face.

He was clean-shaven, and not too shabby looking.

Braska felt the green monster in him again. Such envy for this man. He was handsome, and had a voice to carry though.

"By the way, I'm Auron. " He said simply.

"Auron." Braska said curtly and nodded at him.

"Look. I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer. You don't have any guardians, I just so happen to be a mercenary. Understand?" Auron raised an eyebrow in question.

"…no, not really."

Auron continued as if nothing had been said by Braska.

"You need a guardian, I need something to do. People like me can't just be idle, we go crazy."

"But I don't need--"

"Then it's settled. If I back down now, then your father might have my head in the afterlife. Vengeful he was, from what I heard."

Braska thought this over. Couldn't hurt to have this man tag along. And his sword might keep the fiends away…

If he even knew how to use it.

On the other hand he could be a mugger, looking for some quick cash…

"Sure. Could use all the help I can get…"

"Says he who wants to journey alone. Well. Let's go then." Auron shifted his sword, that rested on his shoulder, to a more comfortable position.

"Ah… before I forget… there is someone else we need to pick up. He will be escorting you as well."

"And who's this other person?" Braska said unenthusiastically.

Auron grinned crookedly and when he responded his lips did not move. He seemed to be grimacing inwardly.

"…Just a friend."


End file.
